


Tommy Baby Rages

by themuffintears



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling, Rated teen for language, Schlatt named this fic not the author /j, Set in the minecraft world, Two Shot, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27038194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themuffintears/pseuds/themuffintears
Summary: Tommy runs away to the flower field and, in light of recent events, can't help but break down. Tubbo, thankfully, arrives to comfort him.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 4
Kudos: 297





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi! there's two chapters for this: the first is tommy having a meltdown(includes brief doubts of his and tubbo's friendship), and the second is tubbo comforting him. 
> 
> this is based on events of the stream where wilbur becomes a villain, so warning for vague spoilers ahead.  
> (here's a [link](https://youtu.be/pA-h1QJk4V8) to the youtube upload of said vod)  
> every italicized line without quotations in this first part is a direct quote from the vod- i don't have timestamps, but if you'd like context for any of them lmk in a comment!
> 
> warning! i wasn't quite sure how to tag this, but this chapter includes flowers being destroyed. i don't think it'd be called flower gore, but the descriptions could be likened to actual gore.

_“Fuck!”_

The raw shout rang through the air, sending a bird perched on a delicate tree branch flapping away.

“Fuck,” the word dripped softly from Tommy’s mouth as he stopped running. He bent over, hands on his knees. The sun beat on his back as he stared at the ground, not yet willing to look at the familiar sight of his and Tubbo’s flower field before him. 

He’d come here—a place not quite home, but close enough—to get away, away from everything, everything he was sick of.

Tommy, lungs expanding and deflating rapidly in short breaths, straightened up. The clearing was a blurry painting of reds, yellows, greens, exposed to the bright afternoon wind. 

As he observed the vast untouched beauty of nature, a recent thought of his own popped in his mind:

_I don’t want to destroy shit, I want to rebuild._

He’d told himself that after threatening and screaming to destroy Manberg’s property just a couple days ago, all under the guise of preventing Manberg leaders from discovering Pogtopia. 

(Deep down, though, a sliver of him _wanted_ to destroy the whole damn country, _wanted_ to funnel all of his repressed emotions into something horrifying. 

And while it sickened him to his core, it was positively tempting. 

Especially now.)

His gaze fell on the patch of scarlet poppies at his feet. 

A single poppy, perfect and cocky and taunting, embedded in the new office’s matching suit pockets. 

_He’s a mockery._

Tommy lowered himself to the ground, ripped up a handful of stems, and crushed the flowers between his palms. 

Satisfyingly, the petals distorted into a gory mess. 

He grinned, and he grabbed more, dropping the ruined red as he went. 

When nothing was left, he looked at his hands resting in his lap. 

Red stained them, his fingerprints and palm lines highlighted. 

He stood and stumbled away. He leaned against the closest tree, eyes catching the dark purple tulips at its base, near its roots.

Wilbur, smiling at the bouquet of tulips Tubbo presented him as he, on the behalf of the rest of the group, thanked Wilbur for his leadership in the war.

_Tommy, you’re scared._

Tommy wanted to laugh at the truthful words looping through his mind, but instead he muttered, “You’re a bastard, Wilbur.”

Without a second thought, his foot descended on one tulip, brutally crushing it into the ground. He repeated the process, over and over and over.

Tommy again let himself sit on the ground, ignoring the dull pain of his shin bumping a root. The grass was tender against his knees, like a wound.

He blindly reached for the next victim. 

Then his eyes snapped to it, and his fingers halted mid-curl around the stem and fluffy, light-purple petals.

An allium: Tubbo’s favorite.

_Tubbo? He’s lying to you!_

Tommy didn’t move save for his trembling muscles and blinking eyes. 

Tubbo, his best friend.

_Know that whatever happens, we have to trust each other._

It wasn’t the first time it had traitorously crossed Tommy’s mind, but what if he _couldn’t_ trust Tubbo? 

If so, Tommy couldn’t.

He couldn’t.

It was at that moment that Tommy realized tears were streaking down his face and neck. 

And realizing so made a choked sob break out. 

Tommy didn’t care to stop it, scarlet fingers curling into and tugging blond hair as he leaned forward and wept.

He couldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> flower meanings  
> red poppies: manberg/schlatt, symbol of remembrance and history  
> purple flowers: wilbur, represents admiration(as well as royalty)  
> allium: tubbo's favorite(i think?) mc flower


	2. Chapter 2

“Tommy?”

Tommy looked up to see Tubbo standing at the entrance of the clearing. 

And then Tommy was safe, safe because he was in Tubbo’s arms, pressing his face against his chest and sobbing until his throat went hoarse. 

Tommy’s cries eventually filtered away, and he was grounded by Tubbo humming a slow tune, by his fingers lightly combing through Tommy’s hair. 

Tommy waited for Tubbo to pause his hums to take a breath, then said, “I suck, Tubbo.”

Typically Tubbo would laugh and say “I know”, but instead he softly asked, “Why’s that?” 

“Because I destroyed things that don’t deserve it.” Tommy frowned at how pathetic he sounded, then sniffed.

Tommy felt Tubbo hum for a few seconds then say, “I promise you didn’t do anything too bad. Flowers pollinate, yeah? There’ll be more in a couple months.”

“If we’re even here in a couple months,” Tommy mumbled.

“Aw, don’t say that.”

“I know,” Tommy said. “Sorry.” He didn’t have to look to know Tubbo was silently scolding him to not apologize through a smile. 

Neither bothered to move, Tubbo with his back pressed against the tree trunk, arm loosely wrapped around Tommy’s middle, legs spread and Tommy somehow draped between them. 

“Besides, it’s only natural,” Tubbo conversationally said, fingers returning to Tommy’s hair to tug lightly, maybe playfully, at a strand. “Want to hear what I did after Schlatt yelled at me three times in an hour?”

“What?”

“I made a big chicken farm and killed them all.”

Tommy let out a chuckle at that. “So _that’s_ where all the chicken came from.”

Silence fell, so Tommy listened to the trees and the birds.

“Want to talk about it?” Tubbo eventually asked.

“I don’t know,” Tommy said, sighing. “I guess I got angry at all the shit happening and let it out, you know?”

Tubbo nodded. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” Tommy said, then hurried to add on, “Not that I mind—thank you. But what’d you come here for?”

Tubbo shrugged. “Just wanted to be alone for a bit. Get away while I could.”

Tommy took a moment to sit up and a bit away from Tubbo, criss-crossing his legs and attempting to hide a smile as he said, “Damn, okay, I’ll take the hint and leave.”

Tubbo laughed and reached to flick Tommy’s knee. “Stop being silly, you know what I meant. Away from Manberg and them.”

Tommy smiled and ducked his head to uselessly wipe at his cheeks, which were stained with dry tear-tracks. Then he slowly turned his face up to the blue sky, letting the wind whip through his hair.

Tommy’s previous darkened thoughts of Tubbo were so easy to forget, sitting here and talking with him. And he _should_ forget, because Tubbo trusted him, and he trusted Tubbo. 

And that would never, ever change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you guys excited for the festival(oct. 16th)? i'm sure it'll be a dynamite day ;D  
> dhfkshdks ok i'll shut up now  
> i hope you have a great day!!


End file.
